“And you were dharma’s archer. Which of us was more blind?”
When dawn broke, a heron took flight from the empty river. And somewhere beyond the sky, Krishna’s laugh echoed—soft as a secret, wild as mercy. mahabharata ramesh menon
Arjuna did not weep. That was the first curse of the Gandiva: it had taught him to turn grief into action, sorrow into steel. But there was no war left. No enemy worthy of a shaft. Only the slow, rusting silence of peace. “And you were dharma’s archer
“I cannot break you,” he told the bow. “You are older than gods. But I can give you back.” Arjuna did not weep
He walked to the banks of the Ganges. The river was low, her bones showing. A heron stood still as a painted thing. In the distance, the palaces of Hastinapura gleamed like polished bone.